


if you stay

by KelseyO



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, I Don't Even Know, [whispers] there's kissing, and decides carmilla's bed is the best place to think about this, i genuinely just do not know, in which laura is nervous about her lit final
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She tries not to frown into her pillow, or to drift so far from her usual drowsiness as she puts just a little more effort than usual into tracking Laura’s movements around the room, but by the time the clock tower across campus signals the hour and Laura still hasn’t opened one of her breakfast pastries, Carmillla’s about ready to assume her roommate’s been pod-peopled somehow.</p><p>What she’s entirely NOT ready for, however, is a sudden presence above her followed by a tiny dip in the mattress, and she opens one eye to find Laura lying flat on her back between Carmilla and the wall, staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>Carmilla blinks a few times, then arches an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”</p><p>(Takes place sometime vaguely after episode 30. Title from "Don't Go Slow" by Benjamin Francis Leftwich.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you stay

If there’s one thing she can count on at this ludicrous hellhole of a school, it’s Laura Hollis’s morning routine.

She sleeps through most of it these days, but it’s always the same: three separate alarms blasting from Laura’s cellphone (which is downright archaic, even by Carmilla’s standards), then a shower that’s just long enough for her to knock over the shampoo bottle they’re both too lazy to move to a more sensible place, and then the crinkle of a Pop-Tart wrapper as Laura heads out the door with her half-finished homework in tow.

The weekends are different, of course, but each day between them is nearly identical, and Carmilla doesn’t even realize how much she values the monotony until this particular Friday morning. Laura’s phone goes off only once, and the subsequent shower is so long that Carmilla starts to wonder if the little one actually managed to fall asleep in there, but even when the water finally shuts off and the door opens, Laura’s footsteps are noticeably sluggish.

She tries not to frown into her pillow, or to drift so far from her usual drowsiness as she puts just a little more effort than usual into tracking Laura’s movements around the room, but by the time the clock tower across campus signals the hour and Laura still hasn’t opened one of her breakfast pastries, Carmillla’s about ready to assume her roommate’s been pod-peopled somehow.

What she’s entirely _not_ ready for, however, is a sudden presence above her followed by a tiny dip in the mattress, and she opens one eye to find Laura lying flat on her back between Carmilla and the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

Carmilla blinks a few times, then arches an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Laura takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “I don’t want to go.”

“So don’t go,” she replies, letting her eyelids droop closed again.

“I _have_ to go. It’s my lit final.”

Now it’s Carmilla’s turn to sigh. “So go.”

“I’m nervous.”

“You were blitzing through those flash cards last night, buttercup. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Laura rolls her eyes a little. “You’re my—you’re my roommate,” she replies quietly. “You have to say that.”

Carmilla shrugs a shoulder. “Do I? I’d argue that the further your grades slip, the more cookies you buy to compensate, which means I don’t have to feel guilty about eating half of them. If anything, I should want you to fail.”

The corner of Laura’s mouth twitches and she swallows hard but says nothing, and after a lengthy silence, Carmilla stretches a bit and props herself on her elbow.

“Cupcake,” she murmurs, and she can’t decide if it’s a question or a statement, but it does get Laura to curl up on her side, facing Carmilla yet avoiding her eyes.

“I was gonna go early,” Laura mumbles, “maybe try to talk to Danny beforehand. But I think I might just…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, so Carmilla fills in the blank by adjusting her blankets and gently pulling them up to cover Laura as well, and she swears she hears a sigh of relief slip from the other side of the bed.

The quiet that follows is even longer than the first, but it’s one Carmilla doesn’t mind, really; these past few weeks have brought with them a constant barrage of interrogations and shouting matches and interrupting gingers, and though she’d be loath to admit it to the open air, the aloneness of this moment is… not unpleasant.

“Can I ask you a question?”

The words are barely above a whisper, but they snap Carmilla from her thoughts like a slamming door. “Wow,” she deadpans, “you’re asking permission now. And not a single length of rope or garlic clove in sight.”

Laura’s looking at her with a strange intensity, like she’s thinking really hard about something.

“Permission to speak, sweetheart. Or did my brother and Mama actually manage to—?”

There are lips against hers, then, soft and tentative and so, so careful, and if Carmilla needed any oxygen to survive, her lungs would surely have emptied themselves at this point. Her eyes are still closed when the kiss ends, perhaps in an attempt to delay the inevitable backtracking or change of heart that she’s already anticipating down to her bones; when she finally does muster the courage to _look_ , she’s almost baffled by the fact that Laura hasn’t moved an inch.

“Interesting question,” she breathes, and she can’t believe she’s practically panting right now. “Are you sure you want to know the answer?”

Laura says nothing, just nods, and she doesn’t flinch when Carmilla’s fingertips brush against her temple and around the outer rim of her ear and along her jaw, so Carmilla’s hesitation is gone when she pulls Laura in and presses their mouths together once more.

Even when she squeezed herself into her best corset and strolled into their room armed with a bottle of champagne, even when she pulled Laura close for their miniature waltz and found their fingers lacing as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and even when she forgot all about third party observers and apathetic pretenses as she rushed to free Laura from her nightmare; even in all of those moments, she was not and still isn’t prepared for the taste of Laura Hollis on her tongue.

It was one thing to sample her blood, but this is another experience, another emotion entirely. She knows this, knows from experience that arteries don’t provide the same flavors as mouths do, but for the love of God, when will she stop allowing Laura to surprise her?

She’s already lost track of how many times their lips have met, and a small part of her is half expecting the door to burst open at any moment, and speaking of which…

“As wonderfully as this interrogation is going,” Carmilla purrs into the next kiss, “I’m sure your Lit TA will come to far more grotesque conclusions if you don’t show up to your test.”

There’s a muffled groan against her lips and they both pause as Laura catches her breath, and they’re still close enough that the tips of their noses brush together at even the slightest movement.

“I’m starting to understand why you stay in bed all day,” Laura says, still looking at Carmilla’s mouth.

“Well, to be fair,” she replies with the tiniest of smirks, “I don’t usually have company.” Laura actually smiles at this, contrary to Carmilla’s expectations, and she rolls her eyes and plants a gentle kiss on Laura’s forehead. “Go pass your final.”

Laura reluctantly extracts herself from Carmilla’s bedding and takes her time climbing back over the side of the mattress while Carmilla tries not to dwell on the abrupt emptiness of the sheets beside her, or let her eyes follow Laura around the room as she _finally_ stuffs a notebook into her bag and grabs a Pop-Tart from her snack shelf.

She’s waiting for the tired creak of the door opening and closing when Laura doubles back for a final peck on the lips, one that somehow manages to be casual and sincere and way too brief all at the same time; then Laura’s gone, and the room is silent, and she can’t help but wonder if this is going to become Laura’s new morning routine, _their_ new morning routine.

Carmilla thinks she might like that, very much.


End file.
